


Momma's Boy

by yerdua



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yerdua/pseuds/yerdua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Stiles didn't see anything wrong with this. He just loved his mom a little bit more than most people did. And that wasn't a bad thing.</p>
<p>Not until she heard the news from her doctor.</p>
<p>(or, the one where stiles' mom has cancer)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momma's Boy

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for my English class. Feedback would be really cool u guys

**Before**

Stiles Stilinski was always a momma's boy. He would cling to her like a second skin; wherever she went, he followed. He never wanted to go outside if his mom was home from work. Instead, he’d choose to run into her arms and drag her upstairs to chatter about his day at school while she squinted to read the directions for his ADHD medication.

He didn’t have a lot of friends, just his best friend Scott and his parents. They were all he needed, nothing more, he’d always say. He even refused to ever sleep over with Scott due to the fear of something happening to his parents––especially his mom––while he was gone. His parents were considering getting him tested for attachment issues, scared about what would happen to him in the future if he continued on like this.

But he didn't see anything wrong with this. He just loved his mom a little bit more than most people did. And that wasn't a bad thing.

Not until she heard the news from her doctor.

\--

"Claudia, we need to tell him."

Stiles stuck out his tongue as he moved closer to the door, hissing when his actions induced a creak from the wooden floor. His parents told him to stay in his room (the idiots, _of course_ he’d eavesdrop on them) while they talked about something “important." 

"He won't take this easily! You know how attached he is…his childhood will be scarred." 

"But if we prolong it…Claudia, we don't know if you're gonna–" there was a gulp, followed by a shaky breath. "We don't know if you're gonna make it out of this."

Now Stiles was confused.

\--

"Son…sit down."

 

"Why?" asked Stiles, eyes widening hyperactively. A month had passed since he heard his parents from behind their bedroom door. Their conversation wasn’t exactly the first thing on his mind right now. "No…oh no, please don't tell me you looked at the desktop, I promise I was just cur–" 

"Oh dear Lord, son, not that. But we're gonna have to check the history now that you mentioned it." Deputy Stilinski––Stiles’ dad––replied, shifting in his chair. Claudia took a deep breath, and then finally spoke.

"Sweetie, we need to talk about something. It's about me…or more specifically my health."

**Then**

He had been waiting for three hours, beside her bed as she slept.

She looked dead. Why did she look dead? She was his mom, the primary source of joy in his life. She could always make him feel better any time she wanted…so why didn’t she get better when he tried to be there for her? When he asked if his mom was going to be home any time soon, the doctor just bit her lip and hesitantly told him to spend as much time as he could with her.

He angrily wiped his watery eyes when she turned towards him, mumbling in her sleep. She was pale; the warm face that used to hover over him for good night kisses had morphed into harsh lines and pronounced bones. Her hair had withered away to reveal a shiny scalp, and that was what he hated the most. His dad always used to joke about how as a baby Stiles would constantly tug on his mom’s hair until by the end of the night, an awful lot of it would actually come off with his fists.

A strangled choke flew out of his mouth after he tried to breathe in deeply. His mom started rousing awake, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the tears overflowed. “Stiles?” his mom rasped, reaching out a shaking arm. “Oh, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” she whispered, her own eyes starting to water. Stiles fell out of his chair and slumped next to her on the floor, clutching her hand to his cheek desperately.

“Mommy,” he sobbed, breathing in and out heavily. He tried to cling onto the air around him, forcing it into his congested lungs. Speech seemed to fail him, breaths coming in sporadically, only when he least expected them to. “Please don’t go don’t go I don’t know if I can do it mommy please please please don’t–“ His blubbered words started running together, colliding and crashing into each other as he fought for sanity.

_“Time it was and what a time it was, it was...a time of innocence. A time of confidences.”_ His mom began to sing, her voice cracking and hoarse. The lullaby was nowhere as sweet as it would’ve been, and yet Stiles still began to calm down. His breathing relaxed as his eyes closed, focusing only on the sound of her voice as she continued to sing. Her voice began to fade away and grow faint as she progressed towards the end of the lullaby, the words turning into whispered breaths. But all he cared about was the temporary comfort this moment gave him.

Her voice stopped singing.

“Mommy?

**After**

Stiles wasn’t a momma’s boy anymore. Instead, he now took over the role of overprotective father; in his case it was overprotective son. One day, he had come home from school proclaiming a ban on all ‘oily-or-hazardous-to-dad’s-health’ food after hearing from the latest health exam that the now-Sheriff Stilinski’s cholesterol levels were a bit higher than the average middle age man’s.

There were times when the Sheriff would find his son at the dinner table, eyes wide as he waited until the early hours of the morning until his dad would come home. There were even some instances when Stiles would get one of the neighbors to drive him to the crime scenes the Sheriff was investigating just so he’d be assured that his dad was all right. He couldn’t lose both his parents. He couldn’t. 

Stiles still acted like the same hyperactive little boy he was before his mom’s death. He was still twitchy, still overexcited, still had to take the same (or maybe a little more) dosage of ADHD medication. _You haven’t changed,_ he’d tell himself, _and you’re still the same person you were before._

But something did change.

More often than not, he’d find himself jumping out of the school bus, sprinting up the stairs to his room with anxiety crawling up his throat. Breaths would come in and out of his mouth unevenly, his heart racing and head throbbing with agony. Tears would uncontrollably spring out of his eyes, his hands shaking as he bit into his pillow for relief.

Panic attacks became far too well known, and the proper technique to getting rid of puffy eyes in the morning had been mastered.

See, there were advantages to being known as the excited kid who gets adrenalized by everything; the kid who could never get put down by anyone. No one suspected anything was wrong with him. He could go through his day without constantly being asked if he was okay, if he needed any help, if anyone could do anything to lend him a hand…

It was almost as if he was a normal kid again.

Almost as if his mom had never died.

But the thing about wanting to be tough was that he was falling apart inside. All his worries, all his fears, and all his cries for his mom at night…they were all muffled by the desire to be strong. To not show anybody that he’d finally cracked, that he’d finally given into the weight of losing his mother.

That he was broken.

**Author's Note:**

> song credit to simon & garfunkel


End file.
